An Informed Decision
by sarcasticfluentry
Summary: After some helpful prodding by Pam, Eric decides to try a new approach to win Sookie back, one that he previously considered to be beneath him. This story takes place two weeks after the Season 4 Finale. Please review!
1. Prologue

This story takes place two weeks after the Season 4 Finale. CHANGES: Debbie Pelt didn't break into Sookie's house, Tara didn't get killed (and turned), and Bill and Eric didn't stake Nan Flanagan. Sookie is back to waitressing at Merlotte's and doesn't have anybody's death on her hands, Bill is back to being the mopey King of Louisiana, and Eric is back to sexily brooding at Fangtasia. You know, same old, same old.

There is no smut in this prologue, only mentions of sex. After this, though, expect regular lemons, so if you're under 18, immature, or likely to report me, consider this your warning. You will be reading erotica, so turn back now if you don't want to.

These characters were created by Charlaine Harris and, to a lesser extent, Alan Ball, both of whom are slowly fucking them up. Mentions of show plotlines belong to HBO, but the rest of the plot is my own.

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**PROLOGUE**

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since Sookie Stackhouse had given both me and Compton our walking papers. Two week since I'd last seen her, smelled her, tasted her. Two weeks since I'd last been inside her, or _any_ woman, for that matter.

Hell, it'd been two weeks since I'd last seen my balls. As far as I could tell, I'd left them at Sookie's house.

Since then, I'd been fluctuating wildly between emotional states, something I hadn't done since I was around 400 years old. I used to pride myself on being able to compartmentalize my feelings and maintain an excellent poker face. Of course, Sookie didn't give a fuck _what_ I took pride in; she destroyed any advantages I'd built up for myself over the years the moment she walked into my bar on Compton's arm. After that, any semblance of control I still managed to hold over myself shattered a little over two weeks ago when I first slid myself inside her.

After she sent me away, I generally found myself in one of two intense emotional states. The first one was an overcompensation for my loss of control and involved me violently lashing out at any underling who dared approach me. It succeeded in striking fear into the undead hearts of lesser vampires and perverse desire into the hearts of the fangbangers, and helped re-establish me as someone to be respected and obeyed. Not that everyone knew that a delectable fairy waitress had used me for my (impressive) cock, but word had spread that the Sheriff of Area 5 had lost his memory for a brief period of time. Many weaker vampires were eager to see if I had lost my touch, and when I mercilessly lashed out, it helped convince them that I was still a capable sheriff.

It was therefore equally important that I hide myself away in my office every time my second mood struck, because it was a sulking, pouting beast the likes of which I had never felt before. It wasn't like the deep depression I had gone into after Godric met the sun, but only because I knew that Sookie was still alive and well. She came across as sad through the blood bond I shared with her. Her sadness sometimes overwhelmed me to the point where I considered flying to Bon Temps to comfort her, but she had made _that_ particular bed, and now she had to lie in it. So I remained in my office each night, and that was where I found myself now when Pam entered without knocking.

"Eric," she greeted me.

"Pamela," I responded. My progeny had been my only source of comfort these past few weeks, for I did not trust anyone else with the knowledge of my emotional turmoil. The fog that had clouded my judgment outside the Moon Goddess Emporium had lifted, and I had forgiven Pam for saving my life after I had so foolishly and unnecessarily put it on the line. That Sookie was able to override one thousand years of survival instinct spoke volumes about her sway over me.

"You're still upset," said Pam. It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"I don't enjoy seeing you like this. It's not like you, Eric. You're acting like a lovesick, whiny teenager. If I didn't know that it would cause you more pain, I would've already drained that little fairy bitch dry for what she's done to you."

I dropped fang and snarled at her, knowing she meant every word. She raised her hands up in a gesture of surrender and continued.

"But since that's not an option, I figured I should get you two together. You're starting to actually frighten the vermin with your mood swings, and I'm hoping a few rounds with her magic cunt will put you back to rights."

My ears perked up at her suggestion of Sookie and I together, as did my cock at the mention of being back inside Sookie's luscious warmth. "What do you propose?"

"You court her. Or, as they're calling it these days, you 'date' her."

"Absolutely not," I replied immediately. "I'm Eric _fucking_ Northman. I seduce. I do not court. And I most certainly do not _date_. Why make the effort when women are quite willing to fall into my bed after a little seduction?"

"How's that working out with Sookie?" Pam snarked, rolling her eyes at me.

My Child had a point. Sookie had only yielded to me _after_ I stopped trying to seduce her, after I lost my memory and my craving for her submission.

After a pause, I said, "I'm listening."

"Ginger has recommended Dear Abby as an effective source of relationship advice, so I took it upon myself to look for anything that might help you. Apparently many of today's human women prefer to be taken out repeatedly on dates before having sex with a partner. This confirms, in their mind, that he or she is interested in more than just sex with them. No one can deny that sex with you is incredible, Eric, but I believe Sookie wants a _relationship._" I could practically hear her disdain dripping from the word.

I mulled this over. "I've been trying to convey to her that I want her to be completely mine, just as I'd be completely hers, if she'd let me."

Pam made a retching noise that I pointedly ignored. "Yes, but using sex to convey that you want more than sex doesn't work, according to Dear Abby. You need to court her, Eric."

"Does sex factor in eventually?" Because I hadn't had it since our lovely shower, and though all other sex had become undesirable to me, I could only go without for so long.

"If you do this right, then yes."

"Excellent. I want a chance to have her while in my right mind. I _am_ naturally gifted, but I wasn't performing with my thousand years' worth of sexual experience when she let me into her bed."

My progeny smirked at me. "Just don't rush it, though, or she'll reject you again, and I don't want you pouting around the bar for another month. Now, let's go over how you're supposed to propose this to her."

I could have kissed Pam at that point, if displays of affection were common between us. Instead, I sent gratitude through our bond as she sat down to help me draw up a plan. "First order of business: when she finally lets you back between her legs, don't fuck it up by gloating. I know that's what you're going to do, don't give me that look. Your 'you finally yielded to me' shit isn't going to do anything but make her angry, and pissed-off fairies seem to favor their microwave fingers."

Even when she used air quotes, Pam was brilliant. I nodded to her to show that I understood (although I would never fully understand women), and as she continued to educate me on courtship, I began to feel an almost predatory sense of glee. Soon enough, I would have Sookie Stackhouse in my arms again… and this time, I would never let her go.

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I'm actually so excited to write this story. It's my first one for True Blood, and once I write the initial Eric-and-Sookie-get-together fic, it can pave the way for all sorts of delicious one-shots and spinoffs! Yay!


	2. Chapter 1: The Proposal

**I hope you like the first real chapter! It's from Sookie's point of view, which was actually harder for me than Eric's. In case you're in the habit of pointing out grammatical mistakes, all mistakes are intentional - they're how I feel Sookie would think.**

**Leave a review, let me know what you think!  
**

**Also, I'm on wordpress now! Find me at sarcasticfluentry wordpress com. - replace the spaces with dots!  
**

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**Chapter One: The Proposal**

"Can I get y'all anything else?" I asked one of my tables. A group of my brother's old high school friends shook their heads back at me, pasting innocent smiles on their faces.

_Maybe them titties, if she's offerin'._

_ You could wrap those lips around my cock, you fangbangin' – _

I quickly turned and walked away, having heard enough from their minds. I was used to that kind of shit, after all, but it didn't ever get any easier. Once word had got around Bon Temps that I'd kicked my vampires to the curb, most mens' thoughts had turned to whether or not they should offer me a chance to have some "real cock."

Hey, Bill and Eric both might be (un)dead, but their… equipment had seemed pretty "real" to me. After all, Bill had taken my virginity, which I had definitely felt. And Eric… well, let's just say it was "real" enough that I couldn't sit down right for a couple days afterwards.

I shivered just remembering. The sex had been great with both of them, but my mind turned to Eric – the sex was more recent, and the memories fresher. As I stuck an order up on the little wheel over the cook's window, my eyes glazed over as I thought back to our first time together in the woods. He had been so gentle, so sweet that it almost broke my heart watching him treat me like I was the greatest thing in his world.

And at the time, I probably was. _My _Eric didn't know about his position, his power, and his badass persona. He had no roles to play, no shoes to fill – he was just being himself, allowing himself to love and be loved unconditionally. But when Eric got his memories back and told me he loved me then, I knew, I just _knew_ that I'd never be number one for him. Sure, he loved me, but he _also_ needed to keep up appearances as the Sheriff of Louisiana Area Five, needed to stop Marnie and the necromancers, and needed to deal with a whole bunch of other shit that I really didn't want messing with my life. It didn't seem like I would ever come first to him, even if it _was_ true that he loved me –

"I know this ass is _fine,_ Sook, but whatchu gon' get done starin' at it all night?" asked Lafayette, wiggling his butt at me from where he stood at the stove. I realized I'd been staring into space and quickly hurried off to the bar to fill a pitcher full of Bud.

Now that Bill was King of Louisiana, he had even more political mumbo-jumbo to deal with than Eric did. To be honest, I didn't think I could ever get past all of the bad stuff that happened between Bill and me. With Eric, I felt like there was still room for our relationship to continue, but I was pretty sure that my relationship with Bill had run its course. Between lying to me from the moment he met me, taking my virginity without loving me first, cheating on me with his maker, draining me and almost raping me, trying to kill Eric to prevent him from telling me about the queen's mission, and trying to kill Eric just to stop him from being with me, I didn't think Bill could ever again be the right man for me. I'd forgiven him, but that didn't mean I'd forgotten any of it. People change, but they can't change _that_ much.

As I brought the pitcher of beer over to the table of Jason's old buddies, I tried to pin down how I felt about Eric.

With Eric, I felt like there was still hope for a salvageable relationship. Besides tricking me into drinking his blood, Eric hadn't done anything else to cause irreparable damage between us. Chaining me up in his basement in Fangtasia and pretending not to care about me at Russell's palace had both been to save my life. He'd shielded me from a bomb blast with his own body, been willing to die for me on the Fellowship altar, almost met the sun handcuffed to Russell to save my life, and almost taken a wooden bullet to free me from Marnie's clutches. If I really thought about it, he'd proven time and time again that he would die to save me. You'd be hard-pressed to find a better way to endear yourself to someone.

I wasn't ready to make a decision about either one of them two weeks ago when I gave them both the boot. After having many days to think, I was pretty sure that my answer to Bill was still a definite "no." But that didn't necessarily mean it was an automatic "yes" to Eric. I still needed to make up my mind about him.

The door to Merlotte's opened and Sam's new girlfriend, Luna, walked in and went straight to Sam's office after saying hello to people she knew. I met Luna about a week ago when Sam started bringing her around and introducing her to everyone, but it turned out they'd been involved for a while before that. Sam told me a couple days ago about all this drama with Alcide, Luna, Debbie Pelt, and some (now dead) guy named Marcus. It involved Luna's daughter being kidnapped, Tommy getting killed as Sam, and Alcide "abjuring" Debbie. Sam wasn't quite clear about what that meant, but it sounded like a really serious break-up. After he told me, Alcide's offer at the bar of a "normal life" with him suddenly made some sense, and so did the nasty letter Debbie had left to me on my porch swing.

I hadn't seen either of them since, but I hoped Alcide was doing okay. He was a nice guy, and I really liked him, and I really, _really_, wanted to love him, but I guess my heart was even more stubborn than the rest of me. It didn't know who it wanted, but it knew who it _didn't_ want. Fiddlesticks.

Just then, Maxine Fortenberry waved me over to refill her scotch, and my train of thought was broken. The late dinner rush continued for the rest of my shift, and when Holly showed up and I was finally able to leave around 9:30, I was exhausted. All I wanted was to drive home, pour myself a drink, and settle down to watch some trashy TV – and after the shit my customers' thoughts had put me through, I knew I'd earned it.

I said goodnight to Sam and Lafayette, whose flamboyant attitude was slowly returning after his terrible grief at the loss of his boyfriend. I hadn't known Jesus that well, but he had seemed to be a genuinely likable, smart person with good intentions, and you can't find many of those in Bon Temps. Almost the whole town turned out for his funeral last week; they didn't know the specifics of how he died, of course, but it seemed like Jesus had left a positive impact on almost everybody he'd met. What a loss.

The drive home was as bumpy and full of strange noises as any ride in my piece-of-shit car. When I got to my house, I was relieved to find that my porch was empty. Every night since I'd rejected both him and Eric, Bill had taken to calling on me at night and trying to convince me that he was the right choice. It was pretty pathetic and didn't help his case one little bit, as far as I was concerned. But here it was, hours after sunset, and he wasn't pawing at my door. Maybe he'd wait until I had a couple drinks before he decided to show up. Or maybe he wouldn't show up at all tonight. Here's hopin'.

I let myself in through the front door, threw my keys on the counter, and made myself a gin and tonic. I didn't normally keep a lot of liquor in the house, but after Pam came through and sent me a check for taking care of amnesia-Eric, I figured I could splurge a little. Then I plopped down on the couch and turned on _Cheaters_. None of the poor people who found their partners cheating could hold a candle to me staking Lorena in a fit of rage, but it was nice to immerse myself in drama that wasn't mine for a change.

For some reason, my thoughts kept drifting back to Eric. I didn't have any right to be, but I was almost disappointed that he hadn't contacted me at all since that night. I had seen plenty of Bill, but it seemed like Eric had either decided I wasn't worth the trouble or was too hurt to approach me again. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe, like Gran said, there really wasn't too much harm in being alone for a little while.

Then, like a big "fuck you" from the universe, there was a knock on my door.

"Go away, Bill!" I yelled over the screaming and crying coming from my television. Southern hospitality be damned – I'd gotten progressively less polite each time he came over, but only because my ex had gotten progressively more annoying.

"It's Eric."

My heart leapt up into my throat at the sound of that cool, deep voice. Just when I'd given up on ever seeing him again, the Viking shows up right on my doorstep! I took a second to curse the fact that I was still in my greasy work clothes before getting my shit together and shakily replying, "Be there in a minute!"

After downing the rest of my drink in one gulp (no harm in a little liquid courage), I stood up and began to walk toward the door. With each step, my heart beat a little faster in anticipation of seeing him again. What did he want? Was he still upset? Did he have another job for me? Would this be awkward? Would I be able to make it through this without bursting into tears, slamming the door in his face, or jumping his bones?

I opened my front door, and there he was, just as I'd remembered him. My heart clenched (as did certain places down below) at his tight black pants, black wifebeater, and leather jacket. He hadn't gelled his hair, and it fell adorably around his face. I remembered some of that hair getting in my face when we made love on the very rug I was currently standing on, which caused my face to flush.

I saw the ghost of a smirk pass over his face before he schooled his features into an expression that gave nothing away. "Sookie," he said, staring at me intently.

"Eric," I said back, a little more breathily than I intended. "How are you?"

"I've been better. Are you well?"

"Pretty much. I've been getting back into the swing of things."

"Ah," he said. A pause. "Why did you assume I was Bill?"

"He's been coming around every night." Jealousy and hurt flared in Eric's eyes. "Oh no, nothing's been going on. He just keeps begging me to choose him."

"But you haven't."

"No. I tell him what I already told both of you – I'd just rather be alone right now," I said firmly. "So if you came to pressure me into choosing you, you might as well leave now."

"That's not why I came. Not exactly. May I come in?" he asked, tilting his head.

"It's your house," I said sharply.

He gave me a sheepish look, or at least as sheepish as Eric Northman can get. "That's actually part of the reason why I'm here. I was just trying to be polite, Sookie."

"Well, come on in then," I responded in a slightly warmer voice.

I stepped aside to let him in. Shutting the door behind him, I asked, "Do you want a True Blood? I have some left from when we were… from when you were staying here. Do those things ever expire?"

Eric smiled. "I imagine they do eventually, but as it is _synthetic_ blood we're talking about, the expiration date is not for several years. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, then yes, I will have one."

"Nope, no trouble at all!" I said, plastering on my waitress smile and going to get his blood warmed up. I was so nervous about talking to him that I mixed myself another gin and tonic while I waited.

When the microwave went off, Eric zipped into the kitchen to get the Blood himself. He sipped it, made a face, and then sipped again. "Does your belligerent friend still live with you, Sookie?"

"Who, you mean Tara?" I asked. He nodded. "Yeah, but she's working the late shift at Merlotte's tonight. If you're able to hear her car coming up the driveway, it might be best if you leave before she gets back. I don't want another confrontation."

"You insult my sense of hearing," he said, smiling. "I'll be able to hear her car well before she pulls into your driveway. And I agree. Our last meeting was… unpleasant."

"There's a way to put it," I joked, and we both laughed. "Wanna go sit down in the living room so we can talk?"

Eric nodded his head and led the way into the living room. Once he stepped fully into the room, he vamped over to the couch and inhaled deeply. Suddenly realizing what he was smelling, my blush returned full force, accompanied by a fair amount of arousal. Sure, I could _remember _what we did on this couch, but he could still _smell_ it!

He turned around and saw me blushing. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. I simply wasn't prepared for my senses to be assaulted like they were." His tone was almost apologetic, but it was laced with a kind of carnal hunger that I was totally unprepared for at this point in time.

"It's fine," I said. "I have to think about it every time I sit down on the couch, so I'm pretty past uncomfortable at this point." I gave a nervous giggle and chugged my gin and tonic. Ah, that was better.

Eric smirked at me and sat down on the couch right where I'd ridden him like it was our last night on earth. (And hey, in my defense, we both could've died the next day.) I sighed, smiling at him, and sat down in the armchair across from him.

"I want to get this out of the way first," he said, withdrawing a folded set of papers from the pocket of his leather jacket. I tensed, knowing it could be anything, and knowing that more likely than not it was something unpleasant.

"Eric…" I began, suddenly wishing I had yet another drink in my hand.

"The papers negotiating your ownership of the house," he announced proudly, cutting me off and extending them so I could see. "Just sign at the bottom and decide how much you want to pay me, and no vampire will be able to enter without your permission."

"Oh, Eric, that's the best gift anyone's ever given me in a while! Thank you so much!" I was floored that he was willing to get off his high horse and do something selfless for me.

Eric shrugged. "I was the one who took it away from you and made you upset. It seems to be in everyone's best interest that you own this house. Yours, because it makes you happy and safe from any vampires who may try to enter, and mine, because it makes you happy and receptive to my advances."

I rolled my eyes at his reasoning, but nothing could get me down at this point. Quickly, I grabbed my purse from its place next to the couch and fished around for my wallet. It currently held seven singles and a quarter.

"All I have in cash in the house right now is $7.25," I told him. "But I have my tip money still in my car, and I could withdraw some money from my account tomorrow if you want –"

"That will do nicely," he cut me off again, smiling at me and gently prying the cash from my hands. "I assume you'd like to read over the fine print."

"I would," I replied, taking the papers from him, "but I can't just buy a house for $7.25, Eric."

"It's your home," he said evenly. "You shouldn't have to pay anything for it. I regret my actions last month, Sookie. It's clear to me now – that was the wrong way to go about making you mine."

"Oh, and there's a right way, I suppose?" I scoffed at him. "Eric, I would've thought that you'd realize by now that I have no interest in _belonging _to anybody!"

He muttered under his breath in Swedish. "Fine, fine, let me rephrase. That was the wrong way to go about… winning your affections."

"Again, is there a right way?" I had looked over everything I cared about, by this point, and I signed and dated on the indicated line.

"I do have a proposal, if you'll hear me out," Eric said, taking back the paperwork.

Leave it to Eric Northman to be pragmatic about love. "Sure."

"Sookie," he began, "it occurs to me that Bill Compton and I were not on… equal footing when you made your decision two weeks ago. When you were in a relationship with Bill, you had the opportunity to go on several dates with him in which you learned more about each other and enjoyed time with just the two of you. I did not have this opportunity."

"Now wait just a minute, mister," I cut him off. "Bill and I only ever _really_ went on one date. I guess if you count him coming over to my house to meet my Gran and spend time with me, that's another one, and if you _really_ want to stretch it, I guess our little trip to Fangtasia counted as a date before you summoned us and the police barged in. So we went on, _at most_, three dates."

He smiled. "Three dates, then. How many have we been on?"

I struggled to think of any. "Zero, I'm pretty sure."

"Exactly," Eric replied. "Now, I'm not asking you to choose between us at this time. I came here to propose that I take you out on as many dates as you had with Compton – which, after your little speech, seems to be three. After that, you can make another decision. If this decision still does not include me as your lover, I will never bother you again romantically."

"Seriously?" I asked him. I had a hard time believing he'd keep to his word if that were the case.

"Absolutely," he replied, a twinkle in his eye. "I only want you to be sure you're making the right choice, Sookie. I want you to be able to make an informed decision."

"Oh, so none of this is for your benefit, huh?" I sassed back at him. Our back-and-forth was one of the things I'd missed most about him in the past couple weeks. I didn't have much stimulating conversation with people outside of him and Sam.

"Nope, not at all," Eric grinned. "So, your first date with Bill…"

"Was when he came over to my house to meet my family," I finished for him. "We went for a walk afterwards, but that was about it."

He thought for a little bit. "When are you working tomorrow?"

"Sam's got me on a half-shift from 4 to 7."

"Would you enjoy returning from your shift to find a home-cooked meal waiting for you?"

I was convinced I'd misheard him. "Come again?"

"I want to cook a meal for you and have it waiting for you when you come home from work," he rephrased.

"That sounds so… domestic," I said, gaping at him.

Eric chuckled. "Indeed. I thought it might please you to not have to cook for once."

"Who are you and what have you done with Eric Northman?"

"Plus, a meal always sets the tone for good conversation. I want to know more about you," he explained, ignoring my commentary.

Well, that part made sense. "Huh. Me too. I realized I actually don't know that much about you, other than you were a Viking as a human, you own Fangtasia, and you're Pam's maker."

"Hmm. Well, perhaps you'll find out more tomorrow night," he said, fixing me with his penetrating blue gaze. Even though I knew I couldn't be glamoured, I almost melted into a puddle just staring into his eyes.

"Fine then," I choked out. "It's a date."

Eric rose, inhaling one last time. "I don't want to overstay my welcome, as it seems you were beginning to relax and unwind when I arrived. I will be here tomorrow night when you get back, if you will grant me an invitation into _your_ home."

I beamed at him. "Eric Northman, you're welcome into my home at any time. But remember, buster, I can take that away just as easy, so don't go trying anything in the middle of the night."

"Dear Sookie, I am the picture of innocence and restraint," he drawled, bowing low.

"Right, and I'm Cleopatra."

Eric straightened up. "If Godric were here, I'm sure he'd disagree with you. He used to tell me stories of the time he spent in her company."

My jaw dropped. I wished, not for the first time, that Godric was still around. I knew Eric did too, because I saw right through the twinkle in his eye and into the deep sadness that accompanied any talk of his maker.

"Maybe you could tell me some of those tomorrow night," I said softly.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps you'd like to hear more of my time as a human, or my adventures with my maker."

"I'd like that!" I exclaimed. Plus, it might do Eric good to reminisce about Godric and come to terms with his loss. I'd be more than willing to help him out with that.

"Fine then," he echoed my earlier words. "It's a date."

And with that, he zipped out of my – _my – _house and into the night. He didn't even give me a chance to watch his perfect ass walk away.

Mentally and physically exhausted, I collapsed into the armchair, trying to process what had just happened. Not wanting to think too hard on the fact that I could hardly focus when I was in the same room as Eric, I opted to abandon thinking and start drinking.

"Yep, more gin for me, please," I said out loud. "Maybe it'll help me think about anything _but_ the beautiful man wanting to date me." Fat chance.


	3. Chapter 2: In My Head

**Sorry for the long wait! I've been super busy with things. The next chapter should come out a lot sooner. Hope you like it! Leave a review, let me know what you think about it. ALSO, let me know if you catch the small Season 2 reference. Hint: it was originally a Jason Stackhouse line.**

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"Fine, then," I said, leveling her with my most seductive stare. "It's a date."

Before she had a chance to mar our exchange by arguing with me, I took my leave and zipped outside, intending to take to the skies and return to Fangtasia. Instead, I was stopped short by the sight of Bill Compton standing on Sookie's lawn.

He jumped a bit at my sudden appearance; clearly, he'd been eavesdropping.

"Sheriff," he greeted me, puffing up his chest in an attempt to assert his dominance over me. _Oh, Bill. We both know that you're king simply because I allow it. Would it not upset Sookie if you were to meet an unexpected and gruesome final death, you would already be a pile of vampire remains._

I chuckled and bowed theatrically. "Your majesty."

As I straightened up, he asked, "What are you doing at Sookie's house?"

"I could ask you the same question."

Bill huffed, "I'm simply calling on her, as I have been doing nightly for the past several weeks. I couldn't help but notice your absence, and neither could she."

I growled at him. "She doesn't enjoy it, you know. The way you pester her night after night to take you back. I find it… _unbecoming_ of a vampire of your stature, personally, but of course my king is free to do as he pleases."

"Watch your place, Sheriff," Bill hissed, dropping fang. I just laughed at him. Younger vampires tended to show their fangs more often in hopes of commanding respect during a confrontation, but it only showcased their lack of control.

The tension of the moment was broken as the shower inside the old farmhouse was turned on. We both turned to look at the house; my fangs dropped as I imagined Sookie naked and remembered exactly what we did in that shower of hers. I still could not fathom how we managed to share a hallucination, but all that mattered was that I got to make love to her on a huge bed of furs in a snowy forest. Even without my memories, I remember thinking that I was the luckiest vampire in the world as her tight heat welcomed me again and again, over and over until she cried out in ecstasy…

Realizing that I was beginning to sport an erection in front of _Compton_, I ceased to reminisce and returned to the conversation at hand.

"I came here to propose to Sookie that she go on as many dates with me as she did with you, and she accepted. After this is done, she has promised to make a final decision regarding us," I told Bill.

"Finally," he replied. "I've been waiting for weeks."

"Yes, Bill, you are the embodiment of patient restraint."

"And YOU are the embodiment of deceit! Sookie will never trust you as she did me."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Yes, but _if_ you remember, you broke that trust in a major way… after you tried to kill me. You never did give me my phone back."

"What a great loss to you," Bill sneered, ignoring the mention of his treachery.

"Let me make one thing clear, Compton," I said, keeping my voice perfectly even. "We may have both deceived her, but your entire relationship with her was deception from the first night you laid eyes on her. I may be a manipulating, conniving bastard, but _I _was up-front about it, and she accepted me for who I was."

"Perhaps she did when who you _were_ was a scared amnesiac who only knew how to fuck and pout. But when you regained your memories, Northman, she rejected you because she can't stand who you _are_."

I hissed at him, knowing that every word he spoke was the truth. Bill had struck a nerve inside me, a nerve that I wasn't aware I possessed until two weeks ago: insecurity. It was a foreign and extremely uncomfortable emotion, one I associated solely with Sookie and the fact that she might not choose me. In my thousand years I had never cared for being uncomfortable, and I sure as fuck was not about to start now.

Before I could separate Compton's head from his shoulders, Sookie's voice came floating down from the upstairs bathroom. "Eric!"

I cursed my luck, realizing she must have seen us and wanted to show Bill some mercy. I just couldn't catch a fucking break.

That is, until I heard the accompanying moan of pleasure. Compton heard it too, as his head snapped toward the house and his mouth dropped open. We both inhaled simultaneously to find the air laced with the scent of Sookie's arousal, and I realized with glee that she was pleasuring herself in the shower thinking of me.

"Ohhh, _fuck_ yes!" came her voice again. "God, _Eric_…"

My lips turned up into a fangy grin as my cock awakened in a frenzy. Due to the scent of fairy juices in the air, I saw that Bill was getting hard as well, but he looked much less happy about it. Now I had something to lord over him for the rest of our immortal lives.

"Perhaps she _can _stand who I am, Bill," I tease, reveling in the intoxicating air and taking deep, unnecessary breaths. For once, Bill was at a loss for words.

"Mmm, I'm so close! Fuck, I'm gonna come! Yes! _Yes!_" Her voice became louder as she reached her peak, and then she climaxed with a scream of my name. Never had my name sounded so good coming off of those lips, especially considering Compton was right there to witness it all. In fact, it sounded so good that my cock was twitching in my jeans.

I inhaled one last time and turned to a miserable Bill. "If you'll excuse me, my liege, I'll be off to take care of a little problem I have," I announced, patting the front of my pants. My glee heightened when I realized that if anyone's _problem_ was little, it was his. No wonder Sookie had felt almost virgin-like when I first slid inside her.

Without waiting for the "king's" dismissal (I didn't give a fuck), I took off into the night and flew straight to Fangtasia. I had some planning to do with my progeny, but the first order of business was the release my body was craving.

There was a line of vermin waiting to be admitted by the front door, so I used the employee entrance around the back. As I rushed to my office, I passed Pam in the hallway. "My office, ten minutes," I barked out, then secured myself in my office.

While it was always pleasurable to recall the sex that Sookie and I had when I was cursed, I found myself craving something less gentle and more primal. I settled down into my desk chair and freed my aching erection from its denim prison. As I took myself in hand and groaned at how sensitive I was, I imagined Sookie wearing that little red and white dress that she'd been wearing the first night I met her. She was bent over my desk, her panties gone and her arousal dripping down the backs of her thighs. I wanted so badly to lick and suck at her sweet little folds and collect the moisture pooling there, but imaginary Sookie was impatient.

"Please, Eric, I need you inside me," she begged. I panted and stroked my cock as I imagined spanking her a few times on each cheek and then pushing inside her with my considerable length. She groaned and clenched around my cock as I drove into her, gripping her slim waist to bring her hips crashing back against mine.

"So fucking sweet," I crooned, bending over and laying kisses on the back of her neck. Sookie shivered and moaned, reaching back with her hands to grab my ass and pull me deeper into her. I wished with all my being to feel her warmth and tightness around me once more.

"More," she begged, her breasts dragging across the wood of my desk as her body bounced back and forth, "please, more! Don't stop!"

I growled and gripped her hips harder, straightening up for more leverage as I lost myself inside her sweet pussy. The desk began moving across the floor with each thrust of my hips. Moaning as I neared my release, I began to move my hand faster. In my fantasy, I reached vampire speed and pulled Sookie up so that she was flush with my chest. My naughty little fairy had pushed down the cups of her dress and was tweaking her nipples, crying out as I nailed her. I positively slammed her onto me, impaling her on my cock as her feet failed to reach the floor. Fuck, just to feel her hot pussy take all of me again…

"Oh God, you're gonna make me – make me - ERIC!"

"Yes, my lover, come for me," I moaned, and bit into her neck. The thought of Sookie's sweet blood pouring into my mouth as she came on my cock sent me spiraling into my own intense release, and I groaned as I spilled into my hand.

Fuck. I knew that when she finally yielded to me I would draw our coupling out much longer. I wanted to torture her as she'd tortured me for weeks when she was with Compton, teasing her and withholding what she really wanted. Once she'd accepted me, I wanted to punish her for rejecting me on that fateful night two weeks ago. Perhaps several nights' worth of teasing her and denying her release would get my point across.

At that thought, I felt my cock stir and begin to harden again, but I knew I had work to do tonight. I grabbed a tissue and cleaned myself up, and I was zipping up my jeans when Pam barged into the room.

"Celibacy seems like a bitch," she said.

"Eric Northman, abstinent," I mused out loud, not liking the way it sounded. "Hopefully this will not continue for much longer. Sookie agreed to my proposition tonight."

"Excellent. Did she –"

"Then, I ran into Compton outside, who had been eavesdropping. We traded insults, as is customary, but we were cut short when we heard Sookie pleasuring herself in the shower-"

Pam's fangs dropped. I did not blame her.

"-moaning my name. All in all, it was a stellar night."

"I wish I could have been there to see the look on Compton's face."

"It was a sight worth seeing," I confirmed.

"Did Sookie agree to having you cook dinner tomorrow night?"

I nodded.

"When was the last time you cooked anything, Eric?" she asked.

"A thousand years ago. My skills extend to cooking meat over an open flame."

"I don't think Sookie is going to want the charred remains of a deer you took down in the woods around her house. We should get a look at some of her grandmother's cookbooks. Dear Abby says that preparing dishes reminiscent of a woman's childhood encourages her to open up emotionally."

"Are you offering to actively help me court Sookie, Pamela?"

Pam scoffed. "I just don't want to see you fail, _Master_." Ah, my Child. So supremely insubordinate.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. "You won't be able to get into her house tomorrow," I told my progeny.

"It's your house," Pam replied, looking confused.

"I sold it back to her for seven dollars and twenty-five cents."

"My God, Eric, everything about you just screams 'pussy-whipped!' How am I supposed to get inside now? You're going to burn everything and she'll reject you and you'll go back to moping around the bar and –"

"Perhaps if I called her and explained," I suggested, cutting off Pam's rant. "She's certainly been agreeable tonight."

I took out my cell phone and dialed Sookie's house phone. On the fourth ring, she answered, "Hello?"

"Sookie, it's Eric."

"Eric, what're you doing calling me now? I was trying to sleep."

Of course, like an idiot, I had completely forgotten that I was attempting to court a human with a normal sleep schedule. Fuck. "So sorry, my love, but I was thinking that cooking your dinner might go a bit more smoothly tomorrow if Pam were to assist me."

"Somehow, I don't think Pam's gonna be too happy about that. Last time I saw her she shot a rocket at me."

I arched an eyebrow at my progeny. "Yes, and she's very, _very_ sorry." Pam rolled her eyes at me.

"So what do you need me for?"

Everything. "Because you now own your house once more, it's necessary for you to invite Pam in for her to be able to enter."

A pause. "Fine. Can I do it over the phone?"

"Of course."

"Pam, you're welcome into my home. Don't make me regret this, Eric."

"Never, my lover," I purred into the phone.

I heard her breathing quicken on the other end of the line and grinned to myself. "Alright, well, if that's all, I'm gonna go back to sleeping… or trying to," Sookie added, under her breath. Interesting.

"Good night, Sookie."

"G'night, Eric."

I hung up the phone and looked at Pam, who had heard the entire conversation.

"She still dreams of you, evidently," she commented. I grinned at her. "Now, I refuse to go grocery shopping and I assume you will not want to either, so we'll have to make do with what's in her kitchen. It should be well-stocked; Abby tells me that Southern women take pride in their cooking."

"We should head over there immediately upon rising tomorrow," I added. "The sun rises at 5:02, if my internal clock serves me well. That gives us slightly under two hours until she leaves the shifter's bar."

"I should leave Sookie's at seven," confirmed Pam.

The planning seemed complete. Two hours seemed like more than enough time to cook Sookie dinner. "Dating" was already proceeding more smoothly than I expected. After all, even after a thousand years without cooking, how hard could following a recipe be?

* * *

"Why does this recipe list two types of pepper? I was under the impression that all kinds of pepper were the same."

"Mrs. Stackhouse wrote in the margins that adding the cayenne pepper is _very_ important. Don't question the matriarch, Eric," Pam admonished me. We had been in Sookie's kitchen for approximately 45 minutes and, based on the ingredients in her kitchen and her grandmother's recipes, we had decided to prepare fried chicken and corn bread and boil green beans. We had yet to decide on a dessert; the entrée was difficult enough as it was.

We were extremely lucky to find about half of a chicken in the refrigerator in a large bag labeled "for frying." (I suspected that was Sookie's way of hinting at what she wanted for dinner.) Pam located lard and a thermometer and, per the recipe's instructions, was heating about 2 inches of lard to 360o F. She had put me in charge of measuring out the dry breading into a sealable plastic bag, which included a spice called paprika, flour, salt, black pepper, and cayenne pepper.

I pressed the two colored strips on the bag together to seal it. "How am I supposed to mix it with the bag sealed, Pam?"

"You shake it, you big dolt. Here, let me do it." My progeny grabbed the bag out of my hands. "Go gather the ingredients for the corn bread. The recipe's on the counter."

For not the first time that night, I had to marvel at the superiority of vampires. All I had to do for nourishment was either drink from a willing human or consume a TruBlood; humans had to put a lot of effort into preparing their meal. Sookie had cornmeal, flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar in her pantry. She had enough milk and eggs for the recipe, and we could use the same lard we used for the chicken.

"How does one beat an egg?" I asked Pam.

"I'm not sure. She has more than one and the recipe only calls for one. You should experiment."

I don't usually feel out of my element, but I had not cooked for a thousand years. Tentatively, I placed an egg on the cutting board, making sure it was stationary. Then, I brought my fist lightly down upon it in the manner I would when punching an errant fangbanger in the face.

Perhaps I need to re-evaluate how hard I punch humans, because the egg exploded and covered the entire front of my body from the waist up in a sticky mess.

"FUCK!" I roared. Egg was dripping down from my chin and nose, and the front of my leather jacket was slippery with the stuff. My Child was doubled over from laughter, but I found nothing amusing about the situation.

"What am I going to do?" I hissed through clenched teeth after she had composed herself.

"I'll look up how to beat an egg online while you go and wash up," Pam suggested. "I _so_ wish I had gotten a video of that."

I growled at her and stalked into the first-floor bathroom, removing my leather jacket as I went. It was ruined, but my black top was untouched. I splashed water onto my face repeatedly until all traces of egg were removed; in the mirror, I looked as good as new. After taking a moment to preen, I re-entered the kitchen to find Pam proudly holding a bowl full of yellow liquid.

"You have to crack the egg first," she informed me. "Humans don't consume the shell."

I, for one, could not believe that the cookbook made the ridiculous assumption that everyone was schooled in food preparation.

"We have to keep going," I said. "The pie takes 45 minutes to bake, and we should make it before the cornbread and chicken."

"Oh, now you're concerned whether or not her food's _hot_? Christ, Eric, you've got it bad."

I threw her a glare and silently collected the ingredients for the pecan pie. She was right, I had it bad. _Really_ bad. I just hoped word didn't get out that the Sheriff of Area 5 was cooking meals to woo a _human _(even if said human was the most magical, enchanting being he'd ever met). I'd surely never live down the disgrace.

An hour and twenty minutes later, Pam and I were just putting the finishing touches on the meal when we heard the front doorknob turn. I tensed and inhaled, smelling Sookie's sweet fragrance on the air, my body responding enthusiastically.

"I'm out. Good luck, Master," said Pam. With that, she vamped out of the kitchen, leaving me all alone with my sweet little fairy.


End file.
